CHAPTER LXXI

A LONG ACCOUNT SETTLED

Having resolved on a night-assault (as our
undisciplined men, three-fourths of whom had never been
shot at, could not fairly be expected to march up to
visible musket-mouths), we cared not much about
drilling our forces, only to teach them to hold a
musket, so far as we could supply that weapon to those
with the cleverest eyes; and to give them familiarity
with the noise it made in exploding. And we fixed upon
Friday night for our venture, because the moon would be
at the full; and our powder was coming from Dulverton
on the Friday afternoon.

Uncle Reuben did not mean to expose himself to
shooting, his time of life for risk of life being now
well over and the residue too valuable. But his
counsels, and his influence, and above all his
warehousemen, well practised in beating carpets, were
of true service to us. His miners also did great
wonders, having a grudge against the Doones; as indeed
who had not for thirty miles round their valley?

It was settled that the yeomen, having good horses
under them, should give account (with the miners' help)
of as many Doones as might be despatched to plunder the
pretended gold. And as soon as we knew that this party
of robbers, be it more or less, was out of hearing from
the valley, we were to fall to, ostensibly at the
Doone-gate (which was impregnable now), but in reality
upon their rear, by means of my old water-slide. For I
had chosen twenty young fellows, partly miners, and
partly warehousemen, and sheep farmers, and some of
other vocations, but all to be relied upon for spirit
and power of climbing. And with proper tools to aid
us, and myself to lead the way, I felt no doubt
whatever but that we could all attain the crest where
first I had met with Lorna.

Upon the whole, I rejoiced that Lorna was not present
now. It must have been irksome to her feelings to have
all her kindred and old associates (much as she kept
aloof from them) put to death without ceremony, or else
putting all of us to death. For all of us were
resolved this time to have no more shilly-shallying;
but to go through with a nasty business, in the style
of honest Englishmen, when the question comes to 'Your
life or mine.'

There was hardly a man among us who had not suffered
bitterly from the miscreants now before us. One had
lost his wife perhaps, another had lost a
daughter--according to their ages, another had lost his
favourite cow; in a word, there was scarcely any one
who had not to complain of a hayrick; and what
surprised me then, not now, was that the men least
injured made the greatest push concerning it. But be
the wrong too great to speak of, or too small to swear
about, from poor Kit Badcock to rich Master Huckaback,
there was not one but went heart and soul for stamping
out these firebrands.

The moon was lifting well above the shoulder of the
uplands, when we, the chosen band, set forth, having
the short cut along the valleys to foot of the
Bagworthy water; and therefore having allowed the rest
an hour, to fetch round the moors and hills; we were
not to begin our climb until we heard a musket fired
from the heights on the left-hand side, where John Fry
himself was stationed, upon his own and his wife's
request; so as to keep out of action. And that was the
place where I had been used to sit, and to watch for
Lorna. And John Fry was to fire his gun, with a ball
of wool inside it, so soon as he heard the hurly-burly
at the Doone-gate beginning; which we, by reason of
waterfall, could not hear, down in the meadows there.

We waited a very long time, with the moon marching up
heaven steadfastly, and the white fog trembling in
chords and columns, like a silver harp of the meadows.
And then the moon drew up the fogs, and scarfed herself
in white with them; and so being proud, gleamed upon
the water, like a bride at her looking-glass; and yet
there was no sound of either John Fry, or his
blunderbuss.

I began to think that the worthy John, being out of all
danger, and having brought a counterpane (according to
his wife's directions, because one of the children had
a cold), must veritably have gone to sleep; leaving
other people to kill, or be killed, as might be the
will of God; so that he were comfortable. But herein
I did wrong to John, and am ready to acknowledge it;
for suddenly the most awful noise that anything short
of thunder could make, came down among the rocks, and
went and hung upon the corners.

'The signal, my lads,' I cried, leaping up and rubbing
my eyes; for even now, while condemning John unjustly,
I was giving him right to be hard upon me. 'Now hold
on by the rope, and lay your quarter-staffs across, my
lads; and keep your guns pointing to heaven, lest haply
we shoot one another.'

'Us shan't never shutt one anoother, wi' our goons at
that mark, I reckon,' said an oldish chap, but as tough
as leather, and esteemed a wit for his dryness.

'You come next to me, old Ike; you be enough to dry up
the waters; now, remember, all lean well forward. If
any man throws his weight back, down he goes; and
perhaps he may never get up again; and most likely he
will shoot himself.'

I was still more afraid of their shooting me; for my
chief alarm in this steep ascent was neither of the
water nor of the rocks, but of the loaded guns we bore.
If any man slipped, off might go his gun, and however
good his meaning, I being first was most likely to take
far more than I fain would apprehend.

For this cause, I had debated with Uncle Ben and with
Cousin Tom as to the expediency of our climbing with
guns unloaded. But they, not being in the way
themselves, assured me that there was nothing to fear,
except through uncommon clumsiness; and that as for
charging our guns at the top, even veteran troops could
scarcely be trusted to perform it properly in the
hurry, and the darkness, and the noise of fighting
before them.

However, thank God, though a gun went off, no one was
any the worse for it, neither did the Doones notice it,
in the thick of the firing in front of them. For the
orders to those of the sham attack, conducted by Tom
Faggus, were to make the greatest possible noise,
without exposure of themselves; until we, in the rear,
had fallen to; which John Fry was again to give the
signal of.

Therefore we, of the chosen band, stole up the meadow
quietly, keeping in the blots of shade, and hollow of
the watercourse. And the earliest notice the
Counsellor had, or any one else, of our presence, was
the blazing of the log-wood house, where lived that
villain Carver. It was my especial privilege to set
this house on fire; upon which I had insisted,
exclusively and conclusively. No other hand but mine
should lay a brand, or strike steel on flint for it; I
had made all preparations carefully for a goodly blaze.

And I must confess that I rubbed my hands, with a
strong delight and comfort, when I saw the home of that
man, who had fired so many houses, having its turn of
smoke, and blaze, and of crackling fury.

We took good care, however, to burn no innocent women
or children in that most righteous destruction. For we
brought them all out beforehand; some were glad, and
some were sorry; according to their dispositions. For
Carver had ten or a dozen wives; and perhaps that had
something to do with his taking the loss of Lorna so
easily. One child I noticed, as I saved him; a fair
and handsome little fellow, whom (if Carver Doone could
love anything on earth beside his wretched self) he did
love. The boy climbed on my back and rode; and much as
I hated his father, it was not in my heart to say or do
a thing to vex him.

Leaving these poor injured people to behold their
burning home, we drew aside, by my directions, into the
covert beneath the cliff. But not before we had laid
our brands to three other houses, after calling the
women forth, and bidding them go for their husbands,
and to come and fight a hundred of us. In the smoke
and rush, and fire, they believed that we were a
hundred; and away they ran, in consternation, to the
battle at the Doone-gate.

'All Doone-town is on fire, on fire!' we heard them
shrieking as they went; 'a hundred soldiers are burning
it, with a dreadful great man at the head of them!'

Presently, just as I expected, back came the warriors
of the Doones; leaving but two or three at the gate,
and burning with wrath to crush under foot the
presumptuous clowns in their valley. Just then the
waxing fire leaped above the red crest of the cliffs,
and danced on the pillars of the forest, and lapped
like a tide on the stones of the slope. All the valley
flowed with light, and the limpid waters reddened, and
the fair young women shone, and the naked children
glistened.

But the finest sight of all was to see those haughty
men striding down the causeway darkly, reckless of
their end, but resolute to have two lives for every
one. A finer dozen of young men could not have been
found in the world perhaps, nor a braver, nor a viler
one.

Seeing how few there were of them, I was very loath to
fire, although I covered the leader, who appeared to be
dashing Charley; for they were at easy distance now,
brightly shone by the fire-light, yet ignorant where
to look for us. I thought that we might take them
prisoners--though what good that could be God knows, as
they must have been hanged thereafter--anyhow I was
loath to shoot, or to give the word to my followers.

But my followers waited for no word; they saw a fair
shot at the men they abhorred, the men who had robbed
them of home or of love, and the chance was too much
for their charity. At a signal from old Ikey, who
levelled his own gun first, a dozen muskets were
discharged, and half of the Doones dropped lifeless,
like so many logs of firewood, or chopping-blocks
rolled over.

Although I had seen a great battle before, and a
hundred times the carnage, this appeared to me to be
horrible; and I was at first inclined to fall upon our
men for behaving so. But one instant showed me that
they were right; for while the valley was filled with
howling, and with shrieks of women, and the beams of
the blazing houses fell, and hissed in the bubbling
river; all the rest of the Doones leaped at us, like so
many demons. They fired wildly, not seeing us well
among the hazel bushes; and then they clubbed their
muskets, or drew their swords, as might be; and
furiously drove at us.

For a moment, although we were twice their number, we
fell back before their valorous fame, and the power of
their onset. For my part, admiring their courage
greatly, and counting it slur upon manliness that two
should be down upon one so, I withheld my hand awhile;
for I cared to meet none but Carver; and he was not
among them. The whirl and hurry of this fight, and the
hard blows raining down--for now all guns were
empty--took away my power of seeing, or reasoning upon
anything. Yet one thing I saw, which dwelled long with
me; and that was Christopher Badcock spending his life
to get Charley's.

How he had found out, none may tell; both being dead so
long ago; but, at any rate, he had found out that
Charley was the man who had robbed him of his wife and
honour. It was Carver Doone who took her away, but
Charleworth Doone was beside him; and, according to
cast of dice, she fell to Charley's share. All this
Kit Badcock (who was mad, according to our measures)
had discovered, and treasured up; and now was his
revenge-time.

He had come into the conflict without a weapon of any
kind; only begging me to let him be in the very thick
of it. For him, he said, life was no matter, after the
loss of his wife and child; but death was matter to
him, and he meant to make the most of it. Such a face
I never saw, and never hope to see again, as when poor
Kit Badcock spied Charley coming towards us.

We had thought this man a patient fool, a philosopher
of a little sort, or one who could feel nothing. And
his quiet manner of going about, and the gentleness of
his answers (when some brutes asked him where his wife
was, and whether his baby had been well-trussed),
these had misled us to think that the man would turn
the mild cheek to everything. But I, in the loneliness
of our barn, had listened, and had wept with him.

Therefore was I not surprised, so much as all the rest
of us, when, in the foremost of red light, Kit went up
to Charleworth Doone, as if to some inheritance; and
took his seisin of right upon him, being himself a
powerful man; and begged a word aside with him. What
they said aside, I know not; all I know is that without
weapon, each man killed the other. And Margery Badcock
came, and wept, and hung upon her poor husband; and
died, that summer, of heart-disease.

Now for these and other things (whereof I could tell a
thousand) was the reckoning come that night; and not a
line we missed of it; soon as our bad blood was up. I
like not to tell of slaughter, though it might be of
wolves and tigers; and that was a night of fire and
slaughter, and of very long-harboured revenge. Enough
that ere the daylight broke upon that wan March
morning, the only Doones still left alive were the
Counsellor and Carver. And of all the dwellings of the
Doones (inhabited with luxury, and luscious taste, and
licentiousness) not even one was left, but all made
potash in the river.

This may seem a violent and unholy revenge upon them.
And I (who led the heart of it) have in these my latter
years doubted how I shall be judged, not of men--for
God only knows the errors of man's judgments--but by
that great God Himself, the front of whose forehead is
mercy.